


Red Herring Heart

by nonverbalspell (AnionsareOnions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Homophobic Language, Implied Violence, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, fanatsy au, mild violence, none of them are too important thouogh, shit gets wild y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnionsareOnions/pseuds/nonverbalspell
Summary: This story is about a boy; a teenager really, almost a man, who wore his heart on his sleeve. It's about a boy who felt everything maybe just a little too much -too forcefully, too passionately. A boy who believed that maybe things would be okay (but maybe he was just looking for excuses.)It's also about a boy who kept his heart on his cheek, feelings left behind measured responses and locked doors. A boy who wanted to keep people out, to keep his secrets to himself. He forced himself to believe things would be okay (deep down he never really believed they would be.)





	1. Chapter 1

_‘Mama,’ the little boy cried, tugging at his mother’s sleeve, ‘what should I do?’_

_‘My dear, there is only one thing to do. Guard yourself and never let them hurt you.’_

 

    Sometimes, the world gave people the things they needed, not the things they wanted, even if that meant heartbreaking disappointment or vengeful anger. They were mostly lessons to learn from, blessings in disguise, not necessarily always the proverbial lemon. But for some people, all they ever got was the proverbial lemon. Bitter truths and the sour aftertaste of destroyed relationships turned people cold to each other, each one believing themselves more deserving of help than the next.

 

    Lance was the kind of person that got more lemons out of life than he had bargained for. His home village of Farinwell sat on the skirts of the Altean kingdom and was filled with bitter sailors and mourning widows, which made for bad company when it was his turn to run the family shop. The job was fine; it was the business that made it bad. His parents were fishmongers; they gutted, scaled, and sold the fish delivered to them every morning. Which meant everything they owned reeked of mercury and the particular smell of dead fish . It also meant that on days Lance worked the shop, he had to wake up before dawn to help receive the fishermen's catch.

 

    The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were dark grey clouds rolling across the backdrop of the predawn sky. They swirled low over the seas, heavy and threatening. Lance could see tiny flashes of light far into the distance, making the clouds glow momentarily. He pushed himself up from his bed and pulled on a shirt that already smelled faintly like fish over his pendant, the chain cold against his skin. He shook the morning feeling off his body and pulled his work boots towards him. He could hear his mother walk up the stairs to collect him as he tied his laces. Lance stood and closed his window with one last glance towards the churning waves at the docks below. He turned and greeted his mother at the door and followed her outside.

 

    The cold wind stung at his fingers and face, the sky’s warning of an impending storm. Unhinged shutters rattled in the distance, barely audible over the creaking of the familiar wooden fishing boats bobbing at the docks. Lance could see his father calling up to the captain they usually bought from, a grumpy old timer who’d go farther out onto the sea than any of the younger fishers. As Lance and his mother neared, he looked past the edge of the dock and far off towards the sea, the dark waves churning treacherously. They crashed at the shore behind him. The wind caught his father’s voice and carried it towards him, snapping his attention towards the negations he should be learning from.

 

    “-st be something.”

 

    “There ain’t no fish today, I tell ye.” The captain shook his head. “I’ll give ye all we got but it ain’t much. Damn storm nearly scared off everythin’, blast it all!” He waved a hand at his two other ships, his men scattering to collect the fish. He turned back to them and trained his good eye on Lance, looking down past his long crooked nose. “The kid shouldn be out ‘ere.”

 

    “He’ll be fine, Maroone. He’s sixteen; can handle his own, right boy?”

 

    “Yes, dad!”

 

    His mother smiled at Lance gently, trying to say something with her eyes. But he had long since forgotten how to read her sadness. They took their fish in boxes, one by one, to the shop as Lance’s father paid the captain. While he and his mother readied the storefront, the sky lightened, horizon set on fire with streaks of pink and slashes of orange, the rising sun following not long after. But as opening came and went, the storm clouds did not. They lingered, blocking out the sky and turning the world gray. The wind came in gusts, bringing the storm closer.

 

    Then the rain started. A trickle at first, then a downpour. The crashing thunder and vicious moaning winds spurred Lance’s mother to head home to comfort his younger siblings, while his father stayed in the back to prepare the fish. People stumbled in and out of the shop, taking their temporary shelter from the storm outside. He smiled politely at them and wished them well as they left. As the storm howled outside, the power flickered many times and threatened to shut off completely. Lance lit candles and turned the lights off himself. A majority of the candles stayed in the back with his father and the fish, leaving Lance with a single candle near the front. It flickered as it burned, images swirling and twisting in the wisps of flame. Through the heavy storm outside, Lance could hear voices just beyond the front door of the shop. Three boys barged in, letting in a wind so strong, the sole candle’s flame trembled before blowing out.

 

    “Lance, Lance, Lance…” one of the boys whispered, barely audible over the deafening wind. “Didn’t we give you fair warning?” The wind slammed the door shut with a loud thud, shutting out the noise.

 

    “We did, Mark,” one of his friends breathed.

 

    “And what was that warning again?”

 

    “That if we saw him again-”

 

    “You’d beat me up, yeah yeah I got the message.” Lance rolled his eyes. “But you came to my shop, so, no dice.”

 

    Mark grunted and his two friends snickered behind him. Lance pulled up his sleeves and took a step back from the counter, in the general direction of the door to the back room.

 

    “We just stumbled in to get out of the storm and what do we happen to find? A whiny queer.” Mark cracked his knuckles loudly. “It seems fair to me.”

 

    The sound of his heavy steps echoed around the room, circling as if he didn’t know where to go. The footsteps stopped abruptly; Lance could feel the tension in the air. A flash of light illuminated Mark’s silhouette a foot or two away from him. The next flash of lightning caught on the metal of Lance’s necklace and Mark’s hand shot forward, reaching across the counter and yanking the chain from around Lance’s neck. The pendant fell with a thud to the floor as Lance shouted. Mark’s friend grabbed the pendent and handed it to Mark as they tore out of the shop, hollering insults at Lance. With the door already swinging open and the raging storm egging him on, Lance set off after them, using his familiarity with the lower levels to his advantage. Mark and his friends obviously had no idea where they were going and kept making wrong turn after wrong turn, leading them deeper into the lower markets. Lance chased them just enough to trap them onto the docks, the dark waves crashing together below, spraying salt water up into their faces. Lance thought he could hear his father calling for him in the distance but he didn't hesitate; his pendant was more important.

 

    “Give it back!” Lance hoped they could hear his shouting over the crashing waves and creaking dock below them. Mark smirked at him and held out his hand over the churning water, the chain of Lance’s pendant trailing from his fist. “No!”

 

    Lance lunged forward at Mark and his pendant, refusing to let it sink to the ocean floor below. He tackled Mark and the two fell to the ground, thrashing about to get an advantage. Mark’s friends tried to pry Lance off of their leader but Lance struggled against them, limbs flailing and blows connecting. Finally, Lance managed to punch Mark square in the eye and used his shock to take control of the fight. He kicked one of the other boys away from him and shoved Mark over onto his back. He gripped Mark’s collar in his fist and raised his hand again, threatening another hit. Mark squealed and brought his hands up, open and empty. Lance whipped his head around and just caught a glimpse of his pendant rolling off the edge of the dock. His father was definitely calling for him now, but he sounded so far away. Lance pushed Mark away from him and shuffled towards the edge of the dock, staring down into the waves. Mark and his pals scrambled towards the shore, heavy footsteps vibrating through the wooden planks. Lance fell into the raging water.

 

_‘Come on, faggot! Are you going to fight or go home crying?’_

 

    The water wasn’t cold. Lance couldn’t remember how he fell in; did he mean to or was it an accident? But here he was, his body swaying gently like he was suspended in the water. He felt almost relaxed, detached from himself. He could hear muffled shouting from above him. The water wrapped around his body so softly. He could see the glimmering of his pendant in the distant sands below.

 

_Their fists came back bloody as they sneered._

_‘See boys? Emotional wrecks like him don’t deserve to live.’_

 

    Lance shut his eyes and willed himself to let go of his breath.

 

_‘You were never supposed to exist.’_

* * *

 

    Lance drifted awake to the smell of the ocean. He could feel the sun tingling on his skin and the warm sea breeze drifting around him. Seagulls cried in the distance and the gentle ringing of ship bells made Lance open his eyes. His room was flooded with sunlight, the window open and letting the familiar sounds of the lower market drift upwards for Lance to enjoy. He looked out to the docks and beyond to the sea, where boats bobbed on glimmering aqua waters and the archipelago in the distance sat on glittering idyllic beauty. Lance sat up and shifted his bed sheets to free his body from the heat. There was a quiet knock at his door.

 

    “Lance?”

 

    His mother opened the door a crack and poked her head in. She smiled warmly when she saw her son awake. She leaned back into the hallway.

 

    “Michael! Rebecca! Your brother is up!”

 

    A moment later, people rushed into his room, all chattering and poking at him. It was really only family members; Lance’s littlest sister, Emily, vaulted herself onto his bed, eyes flooding with tears as she talked incoherently. The baby, Joshua, grabbed at Lance’s hair until their mom plopped him into Lance’s lap. The rest were talking over each other and Lance didn’t know where to focus. Michael and his girlfriend, Sophia, were giving him hard looks while Rebecca looked to be on the verge of tears. He decided to try and focus on her.

 

    “-could you do that to us? What were you thinking, you could have died!”

 

    “What?”

 

    “How could you?” The panic in her voice was replaced by accusation. Lance felt even more confused, and mildly uncomfortable.

 

    “Could have what? What did I do?”

 

    The chatter suddenly stopped. Even Emily looked shocked, looking to her mother for answers through tear stained eyes. Only Joshua broke the silence while his older family members had a quiet conversation with each other.

 

    “Lance is awake!” He said in a singing voice, reaching up and poking Lance’s cheek with a chubby finger. “Lance can play with me now!”

 

    “Emily,” Lance’s mother laid a hand on her younger daughter’s shoulder. “Take your brother and go tell your father Lance is up.”

 

    “But-”

 

    “Go.”

 

    “Yes mom.” Emily slid off Lance’s bed and took Joshua into her arms, pouting at Lance one last time before leaving the room.

 

    The rest of the family waited a beat of silence to make sure Emily wasn’t sticking around to eavesdrop behind the door. Joshua’s voice from the street down below let them relax a little before turning back to Lance. The glare in Michael’s eye was back.

 

    “Explain yourself.”

 

    Lance only shrugged. “I really don’t know what this is about.”

 

    “You’ve been sleeping for two days, Lance. You scared us!”

 

    “I didn’t think you’d wake up…” Rebecca sniffled at him, her eyes wet with tears again.

 

    “Your father saw you fall into the water during the storm.” His mother sat on the bed next to him, a warm comforting pressure to his shoulder. Which suddenly started aching. When did his shoulder start hurting so much? “You should know better than that.”

 

    “The storm?”

 

    “Yes!” Rebecca reached forward and poked Lance in the chest. “The storm you ran out into! The storm that trashed everything not tied down! The storm that tossed you into a pile of rocks before dad managed to save you!”

 

    “Becca.” Michael smoothed his sister’s hair down and gently pulled her away from Lance. “Enough.”

 

   “Why Lance? What made you want to fall into the water?”

 

   “I- I don’t...” Lance looked from his mother to his siblings, each of them with sad, confused eyes staring back at him. The pain in his shoulder was growing harder to ignore. “I don’t remember.”

 

   Michael sighed and let go of Rebecca’s shoulders. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes before hopping off the bed. The door shut softly behind her as she left the room. Lance grabbed his shoulder, feeling the heat of the swelling even through the layers of bandages over it. It stung with pain as he prodded it gently. Everything else just felt warm.

 

   “Becca is just worried about you, Lance. We all are.” Michael’s glare softened into something else. “Dad said he saw people leaving the docks just as he got there. Said he thought they were in the shop that day.”

 

   “One of them had a nasty cut on his face.” Sophia nodded at Lance’s hand. He looked down at his bruised knuckles; had there been a fight?

 

   “Lance, I know you’ve had trouble in the past…” His mom put a reassuring hand on his good shoulder. She was smiling at him, the same sad eyes… She continued on, “so we’ve all talked it over. We think that if you left for a while, you might be happier. I know it’ll be difficult for you, but we want you to go to the capital.”

 

   “The capital.” Lance turned a sceptical look to his mother who only nodded, a frown cut deep on her face. “As in, the heart of the kingdom.” He turned to his brother, who wore his mouth on a hard line. “Where the queen is,” Lance added, just to be sure they were all on the same, bizarre page.

 

   “Well, not exactly.” Michael’s face relaxed a little as he settled himself on the corner of Lance’s bed. “You’d be in the city surrounding the castle. We already contacted someone there willing to take you in. He said he has a niece about your age, too.”

 

   “So you're getting rid of me?” Lance felt his mother stiffen and heard her sharp breath. His anger dropped immediately and was replaced with guilt. He avoided turning towards her and tried to control the damage. “As if the capital would keep me away from all of you.”

 

   Michael and Sophia smiled at him, but they could see through the act. They were hurt that he was hurt, but Lance knew the kind of people they were; they wouldn't let him talk them out of their opinions. The soft sniffling stopped and Lance decided to try and change the subject.

 

   “What about the shop? And Emily? She would have to start taking my shifts.”

 

   “She’s covered for you before. She’ll be fine.” Michael sighed heavily and scratched the back of his neck. “She’s been very upset, though. Between you and me, I think you're her favorite brother,” he grinned. He just looked tired to Lance.

 

   “Don't joke like that, Michael.” Lance finally glanced back at his mom and his heart stabbed with guilt at the sight of her tear streaked cheeks. “Your sister loves you just the same and you know it.” She turned a sweet smile to Lance and offered her open arms to him and he leaned into her embrace, careful with his shoulder. She stroked his hair as she murmured to him. “You don't have to go if you don't want to. We’re just worried about you, and want what's best for you. We aren't getting rid of you, Lance.”

 

   “I know mom. I just… got scared. I’ll have to think about leaving.” Lance leaned back from his mother's embrace and looked out the window and down into the lower marketplace. The vivid colors of the street vendors stood out against the faded ancient stones of the road and walls. He’d miss the sea as it lapped at the sandy shoreline and the smell of the ocean, the kiss of the sun- maybe even the smell of fish. Lance would miss all of it. “If I left...when would I leave?”

 

   “The train to the capital leaves Farinwell every other week or so. You have plenty of time to decide if you want to go or not.”

 

   “Okay mama.” The room was silent for a moment. “Could I have some time alone? I need to think about things.”

 

   “Of course Lance.” Michael leaned forward and ruffled his brother’s hair before standing and leaving the room with Sophia. Their voices carried as they closed the door and walked down the stairs. Something about finding out who the boys on the dock that day were and making them pay. Michael had never been a good whisperer.

 

   His mother kissed the top of his head and stood.

 

   “Mama, one last thing.” Lance patted at his chest and neck. “Where is the pendent you gave me? The one with the lions on it?”

 

   She gave him an odd look, one Lance couldn't quite read.

 

   “It should be in the house. You didn’t have it when your father got you out of the water.”

 

   “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

 

   The door clicked shut softly behind her, leaving Lance alone.

* * *

   Lance had searched his bedroom top to bottom three times over before giving up on finding his pendent. Every drawer had been opened, every pocket turned out, and still there was no sign of it. It was then that Lance determined that it either was in the most obvious place he conveniently hadn’t looked yet or it sat on the sandy bottom of the bay, along with his memory of the whole incident. The scrapes and bruises on his shoulder slowly healed, stinging less and less when his mother or Rebecca smeared ointment on him as they changed the bandages. The muscle was still very sore, though. It had been difficult to tear apart the room with one arm resting snugly in a sling. The pain kept Lance up the first few nights after he regained consciousness, but he grew accustomed to the constant dull ache.

 

   The thought of leaving Farinwell nagged at the front of Lance’s mind for days, a constant loop of weighing options and internal debating. He’d be sitting at the dinner table, or on the porch, or in the bath until the water grew cold, staring blankly at whatever was in front of him, his internal voice going back and forth over what he needed and what he wanted. Would he truly be happier far away from the town he grew up in? Or would it wear him out and drive him back home, where he’d live a sad, lonely life with his family walking on eggshells around him? They didn’t need to tread so carefully around him; he didn't purposely jump into the raging sea. He didn't want to die. Right?

 

   Two weeks passed, and Lance hadn't left the house except to see the doctor. Rebecca and Emily would cover for him at the shop, claiming it was only fair since his arm was hurt. They joked that now it was Lance’s job to play with Joshua and that the baby would heal Lance’s shoulder with the pure power of love. Lance played along with them; everytime Joshua so much as smiled at him, he would exclaim that it was a miracle and pretend that his shoulder didn't hurt anymore. But even after the sling was taken off, Lance still felt sharp pains shoot through his arm if he moved it the wrong way. The doctor gave him no advice other than to take it easy for the next few months.

 

   So, of course, Lance decided right then and there, while sitting in the doctor’s office and waiting for her to finish up the paperwork, that he would be leaving for the capital. Maybe he was being rash and he probably should think about his decision a little bit more, but Lance was also a spur of the moment kind of guy. He hated, above all else, being told he had to be idle. Besides, he had been weighing his options for weeks now- nothing would ever change if he never did anything about it, right? When he and his mom got home that afternoon, Lance scurried off to his room and started packing for his trip to the heart of the kingdom.

 

   The next week flew by and found Lance and his family on the platform of the town’s only train station. The air between them all was heavy and silent. Lance’s good arm was holding the weight of two bags on his shoulder and a third, larger suitcase was resting on the ground. Emily was crying softly and Rebecca looked close to tears. Joshua, in contrast, was excited to be at the train station and pointed at all the passing trains.

 

   “Look mama! Trains! Where are they going?”

 

   “Very far away,” His mother smiled at Lance sadly, her stare passing through his body towards the tracks behind him. Lance suddenly remembered what that particular look was and he didn't want to see it again. He looked away quickly, trying not to think about the last time that haunted look was on his mother's face, the last time a child was taken from her.

 

   “Yay! Are we going on a trip?”

 

   The rest of Lance’s family quieted him down as best they could.

 

   “And don’t forget to write home all the time!” Rebecca sniffed at him, her eyes starting to water. “You better not forget about us.”

 

   “I won’t, Becca.” Lance smoothed his sister’s hair down as best he could with his bad hand. She appreciated the familiar gesture nonetheless.

 

   “Make sure you take care of that shoulder, Lance. You’ll need it for the market when you come back.”

 

   “Yes, dad,” Lance laughed (a nervous chuckle really.) His father laughed with him, not picking up on his son’s hesitation. An old fisherman like him didn't understand. He treated Lance's going away as some form of adventure, a growing up journey that would turn him from a boy into a man. Lance knew he could never become a man like that.

 

   “Lance, Sophia and I can make the trip up there if you ever need us to. You only need to tell us.”

 

   “Thank you, Michael. But I hope you won’t need to.”

 

   “You’ll be back in a few months right?”

 

   “Yeah, of course! So there’s no need for you two to make the long trip up.”

 

**“Train 2870 to the capital will be here momentarily. Please stand behind the yellow line and wait for the train’s arrival.”**

 

   “Guess that’s my train.” Lance shrugged his shoulder bags higher and grasped the handle of the suitcase. Emily and Rebecca, now crying, wrapped their arms around him. He sighed and tried to hug them back with his free arm, ignoring the pain the motion gave him. His family huddled together as the crowd pushed towards the yellow line. Lance’s mother placed a soft hand on his cheek, a wake up call to the reality of his decisions. Joshua grinned up at him and tried poking at his face; Lance’s heart almost broke right there.

 

   The train pulled into the station, billowing smoke and hissing steam. The conductor shouted instructions to the workers on the ground. The wheels rolled to a stop and the doors slid open, passengers watching the platform from their high windows. Not many people got off. Plenty got on. Lance swayed towards the door closest to him, pulling himself from his family’s arms. They let him go and huddled together as he left, moving with the crowd. He handed his suitcase to the steward and turned back to the crowd, half on the steps up into the train car, head held high above the crowd. He saw his family immediately. His mother was crying now, her facade broken into pieces. His father and Michael waved at him solemnly. For a moment, he felt the weight of the sea on his chest, crashing down around him as he stood on the steps. He almost raised a hand to wave back, but his body felt numb and he could do no more than stare. He was pushed forward into the car before he could summon the energy to wave back.

 

   Lance stumbled his way to an open seat and dropped his bags onto the bench. He did his best to hoist them over his head single handedly but he ended up only haphazardly shoving them into the overhead compartment. It was fine for now, but if someone else wanted to sit in his box, he’d have to ask them to move his stuff for him. Lance settled on the cushioned bench and dug his ticket out of his pocket, letting it rest on his lap next to his hurt arm. A few moments passed as people bustled outside his box and on the platform below, rushing towards something. Lance felt like he was the only one not rushing, the only one unsure of his decisions and heading forwards with hesitancy.

 

   The moment the train lurched forward, Lance felt his stomach go with it. There was no going back at this point; Farinwell was streaking past him and he was steadily heading towards the capital, a place so different from his home Lance was afraid he would become a different person.

  
   The conductor walked by and asked for his ticket, punching various holes into it. He handed it back and Lance shakily lowered the butchered ticket back onto his lap. He could feel his stomach fall further, dates and times staring him in the face. There was no return date. No turning back. The lush green trees and grassy hills rushed past the window and started to blur, but not from the speed of the train. The door to Lance’s box slid closed behind the conductor and shut Lance in alone with his thoughts and tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! its been a while lol happy spoop month!! and season 4 is coming out soon!! so many reasons to be excited :D anyway as always this chapter was a labor of love and i sincerely hope you enjoy it

The sun beat down brightly on the sea of houses littered around the train tracks. Metal roofs glittered as the train rolled by; the train speeding by the outskirts of the city. Lance stuck his head out of his car window and could just barely see the castle in the distance ahead, pearly white parapets towering over the city below. The heart of the kingdom lay before him, as tangible and real as Farinwell ever was, beautiful in its own, regal way. That is not to say everything was unique and dazzling; Lance had passed the outer slums of course. He saw the shacks people called home and the dirty faces of children staring up at him as the train passed by. He saw the anguish, the poverty. The queen was supposedly working to help them, but Lance couldn't see the effects. The old schoolbooks praised her for her frequent public appearances with her subjects but lately, no one had seen her at all, and the decline in citizen moral showed.

 

The wind whipped Lance’s  hair about his ears, stinging his cheeks and he drew his head back into the cabin. The buildings outside the window gradually became nicer and more well-maintained. Windowed shops sprang up along the roads and streetlights sported banners that cheerfully welcomed him into the city. Lance could see manicured flower beds along the side of the tracks where young women waved to him as they tended to the gardens. Lance grinned and waved back, trying not condemn these people for having what the people in the slums did not. The stark difference between the two still broke his heart.

 

As the train rolled into a large glass-domed station, the wheels screeched below Lance’s open window and the conductor’s whistle blew somewhere in the distance. Lance waited for the final jerk of the brakes before standing and wrestling with his bags, again piling them onto his good shoulder. He slid the cabin door open and was swept up with the throng of people waiting to get off. In such a crowd, Lance found himself feeling self conscious about his appearance; he wore his nicest clothes, the dark ones usually saved only for weddings and such, but the people around him far outclassed him. Women strolled by with parasols of lace and long strings of pearls dangling from their necks, white dresses swaying around their ankles. The men sported fine cut suits and shiny shoes, top hats that didn’t fray or sag and glittering gold watches. Lance felt dizzy in the swirl of color and newness, his own fishy smell making him nauseous and even more disoriented, like a cat out at sea. He stumbled along with the upper class to the station floor where more of them waited for him, ready to impart upon him their judgement. Even the eyes of spotless children seemed to follow his movements, so young and yet already so aware of the difference between Them and Us.

 

It was almost overwhelming. It was just so vastly different from the station he had left only hours ago. Everything from the cleanliness of the floors to the soft filtered light from the clear windows above to the manner of dress of the station’s patrons made Lance’s head spin. He teetered towards the luggage piles where his single ragged bag stood out against the backdrop of matching family suitcases. He grabbed at it blankly and dragged it across the marble floor towards the exit, tuning out the hum of the crowd. A flash of orange caught his attention and he turned to see a tall man with a bright orange mustache and a blue and white suit holding a sign with curly script on it. Lance concentrated on it and deciphered his own name, almost illegible to him in the airy loops and whirls. He took a tentative step towards the man.

 

“Uh, excuse me? Are you...Coran?”

 

“Hm?” The man trained an eye on Lance and raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. “If you are Lance, then yes I am. If you aren’t…well I still am.”

 

“Yes! I’m Lance, that’s me. Right here in the flesh in the capital.” Lance smiled nervously and cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you. Uh, thank you for taking me in.”

 

“It’s no problem at all, dear boy! Why, when I got the letter from Farinwell, I knew right then that I’d offer you a place to stay here.” Coran tugged on one side of his moustache and puffed out his chest. “You know, when I was only a lad of your age I-” he gestured to Lance’s shoulder. “Please, let me take one of your bags- I spent a summer on the beaches of Farinwell and…”

 

Lance followed Coran outside to the nicest car Lance had ever seen and quietly obliged when Coran insisted he sit in the passenger seat and let Coran stow away his bags. The engine started with a gentle hum, unlike Lance’s parent’s old clunker, which sputtered when started and usually needed a good kick or two to really get going. Coran told Lance about his adventures on the Farinwell coastline while Lance watched the passing streets in rapture. The roads were smooth and glamor of the city only grew as they drove by. There were flower boxes in almost every window he could see and boutiques filled with the latests fashions and designs. Lights were strung between buildings and around tree trunks, waiting to light up the night.

 

“-And of course you’ll be free to come into town whenever you’d like. You may frolick in the wildflowers like a wafting catterfly or wander the streets like a roaming slingerdor.” Coran sighed contently. “Ah, youth.”

 

“What?” Lance looked away from the thinning buildings and neatly planted rows of trees and quirked an eyebrow at Coran.

 

“The town, my boy! My place of residence is not too far from town so you may walk if you wish. Do you have a driving licence? If so you could take the car.”

 

“Woah woah woah, hold up. This car? And where do you live that’s not in town? And what's a slingerdor???”

 

“Ah here we are,” Coran chuckled and pulled up to pearly white gates, the towering spires of the castle looming above the treeline just beyond. He leaned out of his window towards the guard post. “It’s only me and my new charge. Say hello Lance,” he beamed at Lance, who felt the blood drain from his face.

 

“Uh...Hi?”

 

The guard stared blankly down at Lance, his eyes burning unblinking into Lance’s very soul. He waved up to the gate operator without looking away. Coran smiled cheerfully at him.

 

“Thank you, good sir.” Coran waved and drove through the open gates. Lance whipped his head around and watched the gate close behind them, trapping him in.

 

“Uh, Coran?”

 

“Yes Lance?”

 

“This is the castle.”

 

“Yes it is!”

 

“Why are we here exactly?”

 

“I live here! And starting today, so do you.”

 

“W-what about your niece…?”

 

“She’s excited to meet you. In fact, she insisted I have you here.” Coran leaned over towards Lance and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell her I told you, but she was feeling rather lonely recently. You being here should be beneficial to the both of you.”

 

He straightened up and slowed the car to a stop in front of a grand staircase. He gestured for Lance to get out of the car. Lance nodded and closed the door as gently as he could. He looked out onto the expanse of the royal front lawn; the grass was freshly cut and a vivid green, with splashes of bright yellow and pink flowerbeds. Sculptured topiaries twisted along the various walking paths and Lance could see a fountain in the distance. He started to feel light headed again.

 

“Don’t worry about your bags, dear boy,” Coran said, patting the trunk of his car. “Your parents told me all about your injury in our letters. I’ll take care of moving them for you.” He opened the trunk and hoisted Lance’s suitcase out of the car. “Go on, explore! I’ll leave these by your room.”

 

Lance wandered a few feet from the car but couldn’t decide if he wanted to walk through the gardens or the castle. He drifted towards a flowerbed and decided that, even though he was a danger to the tiny flowers, he would get into more trouble in the castle. He chose a gravel path that lead towards the fountain and started walking. The only sound he could hear was the crunch of small rocks under his feet with every step. It was a familiar sound, something Lance could focus on and steady himself with. As the curving path neared the fountain, the sound of flowing water helped him to relax even more. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders and Lance, for the first time in weeks, felt calm. He trotted towards the fountain and plopped himself down on the wide stone of the wall, stretching his fingers down into the water to feel its cool touch.

 

With his hand dangling over the water, fingers sending ripples through the surface as they lightly skimmed around, Lance took a better look at the scenery. The fountain was longer and wider than he originally thought. It stretched out towards a small building on the other side before curving back around. Two small bridges spanned the width of the fountain, now more of a pond in Lance’s mind, connected in the middle by a strip of land. Trees and bushes sprawled over the greenest grass Lance had ever seen, with colorful flowers blossoming amidst the leaves, and a white gazebo half hidden by the foliage framed the picture of the most beautiful woman Lance had ever seen.

 

She moved gracefully, flowing from one action to the next like flowers drifting on water. She wore a dress of blues and whites, her lace sleeves and hemmed skirt floating alongside her. A gentle breeze wafted around her silvery moonlight hair; were it night, Lance would swear the woman was glowing. It was mystifying, looking in on this woman’s life was like looking through a painting. And though Lance knew very little about high class art, he knew that a painting such as the scene before him would be regarded as a masterpiece. He silently cursed his parents for not being painters. The woman did not notice the intrusion on her private moment and continued to tend to her flowers, gently caressing each one. Though her back was towards Lance, he was totally enraptured. He followed her movements to try to get a glimpse of her face until she slipped behind a large rosebush and Lance leaned too far back and lost his balance, falling into the pond with a splash.

 

The cold water was a blast to Lance’s face and he shot his head up out of the pond, his hair dripping into his eyes. His body was half submerged and his good shoulder stung from breaking his fall to the rocky floor of the pond. The previously cooling breeze became harsh and cold and Lance shivered involuntarily. He heard rustling to his right and turned to see the woman staring at him from the edge of the pond’s island. She had beautiful dark skin and glistening blue eyes and wore a delicate circlet with a jewel that matched her brooch. She brought a hand to her mouth and Lance was afraid she was going to call castle guards, who were sure to be not too far away. He scrambled to his feet and hopped out of the pond, ignoring the woman’s cries to come back as he ran back towards where he left Coran and the car. Neither were in sight when Lance came tearing through the end of the gravel path. Sopping wet and probably being hunted down, Lance decided that venturing into the castle was a worse idea than just hiding outside. He ducked into a particularly bushy topiary not far from the castle steps and settled himself down among the branches to wait for as long as it took Coran to show up again.

 

A few moments passed, and the woman from the fountain ran by, sprinting as fast as she could while she hoisted her skirts up. She hurried into the castle, her voice echoing faintly as she called for Lance’s head, probably. Lance did not see any accompanying guards however. He sighed in relief and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to rub away the goosebumps. Time slowly ticked past, and Lance watched as the shadow of the castle began to reach across the gardens. He tried to ignore the back pain developing from his being hunched over for hours; he was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep, to curl up under his soft sheets and sink into his old bed and feel the warm sea breeze drifting in from his open window.

 

Lance considered himself a simple man; the desire to own expensive things and eat expensive foods never entertained him, only the thrill of being free. Leaving Farinwell behind him was his loftiest fantasy, one he would never dare tell his family. But while going to the capital was what he wanted, he felt restricted in a different way. No one knew who he was or anything about him but they still expected him to be like them. Lance couldn’t -wouldn't- ever be like that. He tried to tell himself that things would be better, but he didn't have the heart in him to believe himself. It was in that scratchy bush in the onset of twilight that Lance came to these conclusions: he would never be free to be himself, his true authentic self, and would be doomed to a life someone else built for him. He sighed heavily and plucked a leaf off the bush, staring down at it like a lifeline.

 

_“And you Lance? Tell the class what you want to do.”_

_“I want to sail!” He shouted, not noticing the other children’s disguised laughter._

_“Maybe one day,” one sneered at him. “...After you’re thrown out to sea.”_

 

He missed the ocean. He missed the familiar salty smell and the wind in the sails of his boat, the rush of sailing, racing, winning. He missed the lick of waves as his head hovered only inches above the water, the weight of his body pulling the rope of the sail down to turn in a wide victory circle. Sailing had made him happy; but now, even if he were still at home, he wouldn't be able to sail. Racing used to be one of the only things he loved but he couldn’t even have that. Lance sighed again and let the leaf fall from his hand. The entrance of the castle was entirely in shadow now, the spires casting their image far off into the front garden. Lance was mostly dry but without the sun’s warmth, he grew cold. He was just starting to worry about having to spend the night outside when the castle doors cracked open and let out a sliver of golden light, illuminating Coran’s visage.

 

“Lance! Are you out here, my boy?”

 

Lance nearly threw himself out of his bush and stumbled over to the base of the stairs where Coran was headed.

 

“Coran!”

 

“Lance! What were you doing in the bush?”

 

“Well I had wandered off into the garden like you suggested and I found this really pretty fountain pond thing and a woman was sitting there and I guess the stone was wet because I slipped into the water and then I thought the woman was going to call the guards on me so I ran and-”

 

“Coran! Have you found him?”

 

The woman from before appeared at the top of the staircase, the light of the castle bright behind her and giving her hair a silvery glow. Lance shrieked and ducked behind Coran.

 

“Th- tha- that’s her Coran! Tell her I’m not a criminal; no I was never here! No! Tell her I died.”

 

“Allura my dear! Your timing is impeccable as always.” Coran turned and pushed Lance gently from behind him and towards the stairs while the woman named Allura watched from the top of the steps. “This here is Lance. Go on son.”

 

“Uh… hi?.” Coran elbowed him after a beat of silence. “My name’s Lance, I’m from Farinwell, and I'm the only one of my siblings that can do this.”

 

Lance touched his tongue to the tip of his nose and tried to grin up at Allura. He was surprised to see she looked more interested than disgusted; maybe they had just gotten off on the wrong foot. Allura chuckled and held her head high as she swept down the stairs to Lance and Coran.

 

“I am Princess Allura and I welcome you to my castle.”

 

Lances jaw dropped open as Allura -the **princess**?!- giggled and smiled at him light heartedly. She brushed some of her hair away from the side of her face.

 

“And I can wiggle my ears,” she said, demonstrating. “Please, come inside! I have so much I wish to ask you about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love allura so much yall


	3. Chapter 3

Allura battered him with questions the first night over dinner, a private affair with only herself, Lance, and Coran. She demanded to be told every detail about Farinwell and its people. She seemed fascinated with Lance’s descriptions of the countryside and the coast, excitedly beginning a question only to cut herself off halfway to ask a new one.

 

“Did you go to the beach everyday?”

 

“Well, not really, I-”

 

“What does the beach look like? Did you know that some beaches can have black sand? Did yours have black sand?”

 

“Uh, no? Just normal sand.”

 

“What color is it then?”

 

“Like a tan color? But a lot lighter. Like coffee with a lot of cream in it.”

 

“Did you live by the beach? Could you see the ocean from your house? What does it smell like?”

 

“No but I could see it from my bedroom window.” Lance took a large gulp from his cup to ease his nerves. “I woke up everyday to the sounds of the surf and the smell of the water. It’s kind of a salty smell, only richer, more alive. It wraps you up, makes you feel safe. It carries on the breeze, cool and refreshing under bright sunlight.”

 

Allura was silent for a moment and Lance took the opportunity to take a bite of his dinner, a cut of steak far finer than anything his mother had ever prepared. It melted like butter on his tongue and warmed his stomach.

 

“What about your family? What’s it like having so many siblings? Did you all share a -”

 

“Allura, you’ve been pestering the lad nonstop since he’s sat down!” Coran chuckled and shook his head at Lance, whose cheeks were stuffed with the smoothest potatoes he’s ever tasted. Lance gulped down his food and shyly smiled at the princess.

 

“Oh. Yes. My apologies, Lance. I do hope you enjoy it here though; it may not be your home, but I truly believe it will feel like it soon enough.”

 

Lance could only nod. Allura’s smile was soft and her eyes sparkled. Lance felt like he had fallen through the painting of her and was now in a different world; a world of beauty and royalty surrounded him and his old life was only a glimmer of hardship. The old children’s tales claimed that eating the food of fairies trapped you in their world. Lance suddenly understood the danger behind the tales.

 

“Lance, you remember where your room was, yes?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your room?” Coran gestured his cup towards one of the walls. “I could show you again if you’d like.”

 

“Oh...um, yes please.” Lance’s face felt hot, and not just because of the wine they had given him. “I wasn’t paying too close attention before…”

 

“No problem lad! I suggest you spend tomorrow exploring! Because after tomorrow, you’ll be starting lessons.”

 

“Oh okay….wait. Lessons?!”

* * *

 

The day after their fourth dinner together (Lance’s eighth day at the castle) Allura summoned him and had him pulled from a particularly boring court etiquette lesson. The steward brought him to the royal stables where Allura was waiting for him.

 

Her hair was tied up into a loose, silvery bun and she smiled at him as she stroked a white horse. She pulled a sugar cube out of her pocket and offered it to Lance.

 

“Do you know how to ride?”

 

“Well my little sisters tried to teach me once,” Lance grinned and took the cube with a shrug.

 

“But…?” Allura’s eyes sparkled with a knowing look as her grin widened.

 

“But they weren't very good at choosing the right horse to learn with.”

 

“I can only imagine what happened,” she chuckled.

 

“No need to- the horse panicked under my weight and threw me off. I broke the fall but also my hand. It took weeks for the bones to heal.” Lance laughed and shook his head. “My sisters felt so bad about it.”

 

“Well, I had wanted to know if you would want to go for a ride with me but if you'd rather not we could do something else.”

 

“Hmm…” Lance fiddled with the the cube between his fingers. He walked down the hall and peeked at each horse there. “Which would be best to learn on?”

 

“That would be… Barson Blue, he's the third on the right.”

 

Lance shuffled around until he found the stall Allura had directed him to, a stormy grey stallion waiting for him. The horse raised his dark eyes to Lance almost in question. He held his hand out with the cube on his palm. Barson’s ear flicked before he slowly turned to the stall door. He blew hot hair on Lance’s face before he dipped his head low and and took the cube from Lance’s outstretched palm. Lance laughed nervously and backed away from the stall door, wiping his hand against his leg.

 

“On second thought, how about we do something else?”

 

Allura doubled over in laughter and that moment solidified their weekly bonding time. Whenever Allura could slip away from Coran and her responsibilities, she’d pull Lance out of whatever lesson Coran had stuck him in. Without Allura, Lance was sure he would have grown mindlessly bored.

* * *

On the afternoon of Lance’s sixteenth day at the castle, Allura finally convinced Lance to go for a ride with her. They took Allura’s favorite, Sparky, and Barson Blue, who -Lance was pleased to discover- was easier to ride than he acted. They had trotted off to a far pasture and turned the horses loose to graze. Allura happily unpacked the picnic box she stole from the kitchen and handed sweet after sweet to Lance, not even slightly ashamed of her obvious sweet tooth. Lance sighed and tossed them into a pile next to him. He flopped to his back on the soft grass. He stared up at the slow rolling clouds for a moment.

 

“Princess?”

 

“Yes, Lance?”

 

“I've been meaning to ask you something. If you don't mind.”

 

“Of course Lance.”

 

Lance waited for her rustling around in the box to stop before he took a steadying breath.

 

“Why hasn't your mother made any appearances recently? Even in the castle? No one has seen her in years.”

 

Allura was silent. Lance glanced to her, worried he had crossed a line he shouldn't have, but Allura took a shaky breath.

 

“My mother died a few years ago. It was rather sudden, an illness we didn't know about until it was too late.” She sighed heavily. “My father decided to keep her death private until I was of age to take the throne. He wanted to keep the image of the people's queen alive for as long as possible.”

 

“...I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

“Truly, it is alright.” Allura smiled softly and gazed out into the field. “I've tried my best to do what she did and help the people.”

 

Lance turned his head away from Allura, whose smile was small and forced. He could understand that look.

 

“I know it isn't my place to say this,” Lance said as he sat up and shifted his full attention to Allura, “but I think you should tell everyone the truth. Morale has been pretty low, especially in the poorer areas, but if they had someone to believe in again you could help that much more.”

 

“I am not my mother, Lance.” Allura brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. “It wouldn't be the same.”

 

“Well, yeah. You're you. And if you ask me, people will adore you for who you are, not who your mother was. Besides, what other royalty can say they can slingshot a glass out of Coran’s hand from across the table and not get caught?”

 

“Who do you think taught me?” Allura laughed. She stretched her legs out and leaned back on her hands, staring upwards into the light blue sky. “My mother was an extraordinary woman; There was so much she stood for and believed in, yet she still had time for me…” She looked back to Lance and smiled. “What about you, Lance? Tell me about your family.”

 

“I already h-”

 

“No, _really_ tell me about them.”

 

Lance was silent for a moment, his thoughts racing as to what Allura was referring to. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it hit him: Allura was an only child. She was probably lonely growing up and was curious about his own siblings. He grinned brightly.

 

“Then I’ll be honest. My siblings are awful. The amount of shit they've put me through, oh boy.” He laughed. “I've put them through it too, of course. It's what siblings do. There was this one time my brother and I took a handful of firecrackers and...”

* * *

Allura smiled and settled down with a fruit tart from her pile and listened to Lance as he told her about his various misadventures with his brother and sisters. It was his twenty first night in the castle and Lance bolted awake to the crashing of thunder. He could hear the wind howling outside and the creaking of nearby trees under the force of the storm. Lance slid out from under his bed sheets and softly padded to the balcony doors. The window panes vibrated dangerously with every crack of thunder and Lance could see the flashes of lightning illuminate the gardens outside. He stood and stared out into the night until the wind threw something into his window with a bang, a thin crack in the glass growing longer by the second. He hurried backwards and grabbed his jacket and shoved shoes on before flying out of his room in search of Coran.

 

The hallways flashed with light, the windows only a thin pane between him and the storm. Thunder crashed barely seconds after lightning struck, every flash of light accompanied by a booming afterthought. Lance hurried through this nightmare towards Coran’s quarters and the Princess’s wing. The storm grew in intensity as he moved; the winds growing in volume and the rain pounding against the roof. Now small objects were being thrown to the windows more frequently, their contact echoing like metal striking metal.

 

As Lance passed Allura's room, he slowed his gait before stopping completely. He heard Allura’s voice hushed in a furious whisper, as if she was having an argument. Except no response came. Allura was met with silence at every word she spoke, yet she continued to speak. Lance felt that eavesdropping on the princess was grounds for treason and took a step from the doorway but Allura's next sentence stopped him cold in his tracks.

 

“And you're sure it's him?”

 

Again met with silence, Allura huffed and her reply was softer, as if she had stepped away from the door. Lance, against whatever judgment he possessed, crouched and put his ear to the crack between the wall and the door. He caught half of what Allura said.

 

“-will you do?”

 

A beat of silence before Allura made a noise like a strangled sigh and scraped something, possibly a chair, across the floor.

 

“I just don't see how this is the best way. Isn't there a better way for _her_ to-”

 

Thunder crackled deafeningly and drowned out Allura's rebuttal to whomever she was speaking to. Lance rolled his weight back from the wall and rose from his crouch, almost afraid of the consequences if he listened longer. He started off towards Coran’s room again, the hallway lights flickering rapidly before suddenly cutting out. The hallway was eerily dark without the artificial lights; the only source of light now was the frequent yet sporadic flashing lightning, each one accompanied with rippling thunder. Then the castle floor shook beneath his feet, the very walls quivering under the power of the storm. It became eerily silent, as if even the storm itself feared its own power.

 

An alarm broke the silence and Coran’s room doors burst open in front of him as Allura's voice filled the hallway.

 

“Coran! Emergency protocol twenty three; get Lance to the great hall while I instruct the guards! Quickly!”

 

“Right away Princess!”

 

Coran strode forwards towards Lance and firmly gripped his upper arm, wheeling him around back in the direction he had just come from. Allura had hoisted her gown up -the one she had been wearing all day Lance absently noticed- and was running towards a nearby guard. She stopped only long enough to point back at Coran before hurrying down a windowless hallway with the guard. Lance caught a glimpse of them turning another corner as Coran dragged him past.

 

“Coran! What's going on? What's protocol twenty three?”

 

“No time to explain now, Lance. We need to get to the great hall!”

 

Even with the lights shut down, Coran flew through the hallways, pulling Lance along behind him. Lightning flashed as they ran and made the statues and armor sets look far more threatening than Lance could comprehend. The flashing light and his quick speed almost made it seem like he was being watched, as if they were being followed. The thought sent a chill down his spine and he spared a glance over his shoulder, eyes searching the darkness for any hint of danger. Coran stopped abruptly and Lance stumbled forward and almost collided with Coran. The large doors of the great hall loomed over him, the lightning throwing them into dangerous shadows. Coran released Lance's arm and set to hauling the doors open.

 

He pulled one open a crack, just enough for Lance to slip through, and waved him over.

 

“Come on, you go first. Hurry along.”

 

Lance sidestepped through the crack and walked forward into the hall, the room lighter than the dark hallways and illuminated with every flash of lightning through the skylights above. The booms of thunder echoed around Lance, breaking the silence as soon as it had settled. The great oak doors groaned behind him and Lance spun around as Coran pushed them shut from the other side. He raced back and pounded on the heavy wood.

 

“Coran! What are you doing? I thought we had to get to the great hall?”

 

“I'm sorry, Lance. But emergency protocol twenty three only applies to you. I'm to go find Allura and finalize our preparations with the rest of the staff.”

 

“I don't understand!” Lance paused and put his ear to the door, just barely catching the muffled sound of footsteps on the carpet. “NO! Coran wait! Coran!!!”

 

_“And then I said-”_

_“Wait shh! Lance is heading towards us!”_

_“Ugh what does he want?”_

 

The pounding faded slowly as Lance’s voice died in his throat. His knuckles throbbed and his voice was scratchy when he finally stopped banging on the doors and yelling. The doors must have been locked from the outside and no one seemed to hear him shouting. He turned and rested his back against the door and slid to the marble floor, the cool stone relieving some of the heat in his hands. Rain still pelted the windows and the wind still howled but Lance had tuned it out. The raging storm was like background noise, only there to be its own form of silence. To Lance it was deafening.

 

_‘I uh...I just wanted to talk about our project.’_

_‘Well then it seems like you're in luck, Lancelotl. You aren't in our group so you don't have to talk to us. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't.’_

_‘But Miss H-’_

_‘I don't care about she said! Get the fuck out of my face and go shove someone else's dick up your ass.’_

 

Lance pulled himself up from the ground and shuffled over to center of the room where the marble swirled in colorful patterns. He looked up at the ceiling and, for the first time, noticed the fresco there. He followed the strong lines and bold colors of a famous painter he had once learned about but forgotten her name. The painting spanned the center of the throne room and seemed to be a history of the kingdom; the first section depicted Queen Alyssia, the founder of the current royal line and champion of the plains. She was dressed in battle armor with her sword pointed forward and a child by her side. Lance knew from his history lessons that she was commonly depicted as such as a visual representation of moving forwards and guiding the future. The next few sections were recognizable but not interesting, their respective monarchs never having lived up to Alyssia’s name. The centermost panel caught Lances eye and he paused, not recognizing all of the figures depicted. It was Queen Axrasus the second, the glittering crown upon her head her identifier. But she was accompanied by five warriors, each with armor of a different color, and a single golden lion resting at her feet.

 

“Queen Axrasus was the one who originally chose the Paladins of Voltron.”

 

Lance jumped at Allura's voice and spun to face her; she was staring up at the ceiling. She pointed upwards and he followed her finger.

 

“These five figures appear sporadically through our history, always five and always depicted with a lion. No one knows who the original five were- their names have been lost to time. But whenever they appeared, the kingdom felt it's greatest peace. We would be on the brink of war, they would arrive suddenly, then disappear again when the danger had passed.”

 

“I thought...I thought Voltron was a myth.” Lance lowered his eyes and avoided Allura's face. “Everyone does.”

 

“It has been many generations since Paladins walked this castle.”

 

Thunder rumbled as Lance looked up at Allura. Her eyes shone with an unnatural light and an almost threatening look crossed her face.

 

“I believe they will once again.”

 

Allura turned and Lance felt the world slow down. A line appeared in the space in front of the princess and tore open into what Lance could only describe as a portal of storm- with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling from swirling clouds, not unlike the storm raging above their heads. Allura walked forward only to stop on the boundary of the circle before looking back.

 

“Find them Lance.”

 

The clouds reached out and surrounded her, pulling her into the portal.

 

“No!”

 

Lance lunged forward, his finger barely reaching the gray clouds before vines bound his arms back and pulled him down, sand filling his shoes and compressing around his legs. He looked down in a panic to find another portal, this one of sand, swirling around him, dragging him down. He struggled against the vines that tangled him, thrashing about as much as he could and shouting for help through the vines covering his mouth. The stormy portal Allura was pulled into had vanished before his eyes and Lance could faintly hear the hall doors open. He caught just a glimpse of Coran's slippers near him as he was pulled completely into the sand.

 

It was dark and Lance couldn't see anything, though he felt the vines leave him and the grainy feel of sand melt away. Two voices rang through his head, familiar, yet strange, like old friends he hadn't seen in years.

 

**The sands of time cover all, but the roots of truth remain below.**

 

Lance let the sudden warmth carry him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello~ news of season five revived me and i finally finished this chapter  
> there was a section that i struggled with for soooo long that i literally JUST got ironed out  
> but yeah ive been sitting on this bombshell for like M O N T H S hope u enjoyed :-)


End file.
